


Fifty Shades of Mystrade

by HaruSpring88



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 05:23:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3369386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaruSpring88/pseuds/HaruSpring88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young college student studying, Criminal Justice, gives an interview on his roommates behalf. It changes his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Interview

I groan as I attempt to finish getting ready in my bathroom. I don’t think I’ve completely mastered the art of the suit. I suppose it’s something I should learn quickly. I wanted to sit on the sofa and study for my final exams in just a few weeks time, but apparently my flat mate decided that getting the flu today was the plan. I brushed my teeth twice in an attempt to get rid of the smoke smell. I need to quit smoking. I repeated over and over in my head. I finally shrug my shoulders and decide that this is as good as it’s going to get.  
John Watson is my flat mate. Like I mentioned, he decided that getting the flu was a perfect idea so he can’t attend this interview that he arranged to do. It’s with some filthy rich, government official. I should know more about politics considering I’m going into police work, but this is John’s interview. Why he chose this particular person I’ll never know. John’s a medical student. Perhaps, I will learn something. So, today… because I’m such a wonderful flat mate, I’ll be driving into Central London to do this interview.  
John is curled up on the couch on the sofa.  
“Greg, I’m sorry. It took me ages to schedule this interview, and he won’t reschedule.”  
I begin throwing things into my satchel. “Why does a medical student need to interview a government official?”  
He raises his eyebrow at me. “I run the university newspaper, Greg. You know that. Please, don’t blow this off.”  
His throat is obviously sore, but John has that way even when he isn’t sick, that you just can’t say no. He’s an honest bloke.  
John, relax. I’m going to go. Get some rest. Everything will be fine.”  
“I don’t know anything about this guy.” I’m going to feel like a complete an utter git.  
“That’s what the questions are for. You want to be a detective, now is your chance to figure things out. Now go before you’re late.”  
I wouldn’t do this for anyone else. John has been my best friend for years. I throw my satchel over my shoulder and lock my door on the way out.

Traffic isn’t too terrible and for that I am very grateful. John would kill me if I was late. I still can’t believe how long it takes to get to Central London without traffic. Over an hour.  
My destination is Whitehall. Apparently, it’s a large amount of offices for the government. It’s way too ritzy for me to even be in the vicinity, let alone inside. Its classic Victorian architecture is gorgeous, it made me wonder just who designed it. I walked through the front doors and found it rather quiet. I fumbled through my satchel to find the information I needed. I didn’t even remember the guy’s name. I approached a large oak desk. A young blonde was sitting behind it.  
“I’m here to see Mr. Mycroft Holmes.”  
“What are you here for sir?” She looked at me very questioningly. Somehow I felt like my every move was being watched, despite the fact I didn’t notice any cameras.  
“I’m Gregory Lestrade. I’m here on behalf of John Watson.”  
“Very well.” She nodded at me as she typed away on her computer. I’m really paranoid just standing here. The atmosphere is very tense, not something I’m used to. I avoid the urge to scratch my nose. It always itches when I’m nervous.  
“You are expected, sir. Please sign this visitor’s book, Mr. Lestrade. Take the last elevator at the end of that hallway. Take it to the 8th floor.” She handed me a visitor’s pass on a lanyard. I tossed it over my head.  
It should be obvious that I don’t work here. I’m not anywhere close to being as clean cut as the government crones that probably work here. I’ve always been a bit out of place. As I walk to the elevator I realize that even the security blokes are far better dressed than even me. Their suits and high end sun glasses probably cost a few thousand quid.  
I’m greeted as I exit the elevator by yet another lobby. There is a young brunette woman sitting at it texting away on her phone. She’s in a sleek black pants suit. This woman is obviously a personal assistant. She looks up at me briefly and simply gestures to the seats at the other end of the room. I sit down.  
There is a picture of the Queen above the door I assume is Mr. Holmes’ office. I start bouncing my leg methodically. I really don’t want to do this. It’s rather crazy. Interviews should be second nature to me. We did mock interviews all the time in my classes. I turned and glanced out the window. I realized that Buckingham Palace isn’t far from here.  
I glance again at the questions and read through them. I’m surprised by some of the questions. Some of them are very…personal. That’s unusual for John. These questions really don’t help me learn anything about him. I imagine being a government official he’s probably older, overweight, and obnoxious. Aren’t all politicians. Regardless, the guy probably likes classic English art and design, judging from the building and the interior. God, I’m going to be a shitty detective.  
I’m broke from my thoughts. “Mr. Lestrade?” The woman never looked away from her phone.  
“Mr. Holmes will see you now.”  
Before I open the doors I take a deep breath to try and build some confidence. I nearly trip and fall on my face as I open the door. Bloody hell. I can’t even walk straight. I look over to see a man, probably no more than five years older than me sitting in a large leather chair.  
“Mr. Watson.” He gestures to the seat opposite him with a black brolly. “I’m Mycroft Holmes.”  
This man was attractive. I’d always considered both genders, and I had seen several attractive males before in my college life. But he definitely topped the list. He was in a dark pinstripe, three-piece suit, with a red tie. His tie pin had a fox at the end of it. His dark eyes were observant and distant. He was intimidating as hell. I manage to find my way to the seat and speak.  
“Mr. Watson is actually indisposed. I came as his proxy. I hope it’s not an inconvenience, Mr. Holmes.”  
“You are?” He drank a bit from his wine glass. His voice was alluring. His eyes dead on me.  
“Gregory Lestrade. I’m a Criminal Justice major. I’m Mr. Watson’s flat mate. We go to school together.  
“I see.” A small smirk crosses his lips. He scans me briefly, before standing and gesturing for me to follow him to this overly expensive leather sofa.  
This office is ridiculous in size. Floor to ceiling windows, another picture of the queen above the sofa we are currently sitting at. There is another wall of bookshelves, full of thick novels. All of them hardback with gold lettering on the spines.  
“A big fan of the queen are you?” I try to make a joke.  
“Perhaps…” He didn’t seem amused. Damn. John will be pissed if I fuck this up.  
The office, just like the man I’m next to, seems so cold and distant. I’m quick to wonder if he’s ever had a close friend in his life. I rummage again to set up the questions and recorder I brought. Hopefully, even if I couldn’t write enough down, John could get the information he needed from the recorder. I finally glance up to see that he’s been watching me. I feel as if he knows everything about me. He almost looks amused.  
“Sorry. I…I should be used to this.”  
“Take your time.”  
“Do you mind if I record this?”  
“I do believe that would have been necessary to ask before you set up the recorder, but yes you may.”  
My face must be turning red. Is he teasing me? I just stare at him blankly. I’m unsure of what to say next.  
“Did Mr. Watson explain what this interview was for?” Honestly, I hoped he did because he didn’t tell me.  
“Yes. It’s to appear in the final year issue of your university’s newspaper. I’ll be conferring degrees at graduation this term.”  
Oh. Well, now at least I know. Damn John. He wouldn’t tell me anything beforehand. I still can’t believe this guy, who’s probably only 28 at the oldest, is so bloody rich and successful, and he’ll be presenting me with my degree in a few weeks. I try to look calm, but I feel a frown come across my face.  
“Good.” I might as well get this over with. “I have some questions for you.” I scratch my head awkwardly.  
“Well, that is why you’re here.” He’s a blunt man. He’s mocking me. He’s an arsehole. I sit up and try to get any sense of professionalism and confidence I have back.  
“You are very young to have progressed so far in the political system. What is it that you owe your success?”  
“Government is all about people. Well, large quantities of citizens and then the officials that govern them. I know how to read people. I see and I observe. I know how they tick, what makes them joyful and causes them sorrow. I know how to motivate people, but I also know how to make them mind their own business. My employees are well rewarded for their work. In order to make a difference in government, one must know it inside and out. One must be able to recognize every detail and understand what is important and what can be looked over. I am solely a logical man; I can make important decisions nearly instantaneously if necessary. Everything always boils down to logic.”  
“Maybe your observations come down to luck. No one can know everything.” I think I surprised him with my answer.  
“The universe is rarely so lazy. Everything… Mr. Lestrade, everything can be observed. The harder I work, the more I learn, and the more I succeed.”  
“So, you’re a control freak then.” I couldn’t stop myself from saying it. At least I didn’t call him an arsehole.  
“I exercise control in all aspects of my life, Mr. Lestrade.” He says with a straight face in the most serious tone. I look up from my notes and he is holding my gaze. He’s challenging me. I can feel it. I feel my heart rate speed up.  
I don’t know why he bothers me so much. He is attractive, that’s obvious. His eyes are smoldering. Or maybe it’s the way he’s running his fingers along his brolly? I’m suddenly glad I have a notepad sitting on my lap.  
“Besides, power is acquired by confidence and knowledge. If you are certain that you are right, you gain control.” His voice was soft.  
“Do you feel that you have immense power?” What an arsehole. Seriously.  
“As much as my position allows me.” He was smirking.  
“There is some speculation that you have more authority within the government than what is seen at face value. Is this true?”  
“I merely occupy a minor position in the Department of Transport.”  
I felt the lies oozing from him now, but I didn’t feel it was in my interest to question his answers. This was the government I was dealing with.  
“Do you have any interests outside of work?”  
“I have a variety of interests.”  
“You work seven days a week. What do you do to relax?”  
“Relax? That’s not a word I use often. I’m very wealthy, Mr. Lestrade. I do whatever catches my fancy at the time.”  
“You invest in various schools around the country. Why?”  
“Knowledge is key in our society. Too many children spend unnecessary amounts of time in front of the television set and video game consoles to learn anything. The more money we spend on education the more learned and intelligent our future is.”  
“Sounds like your very passionate about that. Your heart really seems to be in it.”  
He looks curious.  
“Perhaps. Though there are some people who’d say my heart was made of ice.”  
“Why would they say that?”  
“They know me well.”  
“Would your friends say you’re easy to get to know?” This one isn’t on John’s list. I’m trying to break through some of the lies I know I’m being told.  
“Mr. Lestrade, I’m a very private person. I don’t like my personal business being all over the tabloids.”  
“Then why agree to this interview?”  
“Because I’m a benefactor to your university. Also, Mr. Watson is a very persistent man. I admire that trait.”  
I almost laughed. I know firsthand how persistent he can be. That’s why I’m sitting here right now, wishing I had a beer instead of talking to him.  
“You also support several philanthropies. Why are you interested in them?”  
“It’s wise to gain the trust of the people.” If they believe I support things, they support me.” He tapped his umbrella on the floor. I really wish he’d stop moving his fingers around.  
“Do you have a personal philosophy?”  
“Not one in particular. I much favor a principle that Carnegie possessed. ‘A man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled.’ I’m a very driven person. I enjoy the ability to control.  
“So, you want to possess things?”  
“To make a long story short, yes.”  
The temperature of the room feels like it is going up. I find myself swallowing hard and I’m pushing the notepad harder into my lap in an attempt to ignore what is going on. I just want this to be over. Surely, I have enough information for John.”  
“You were raised by a nanny. How do you believe that’s affected you?”  
“I have no way of knowing. If I did, I doubt it would matter.”  
“Have you had to sacrifice family time for work?”  
I’m beginning to feel like a child. His looks and quip in his voice are making me feel ridiculous.  
“I have a family. I have a mother, a father, and a younger brother. I’m not interested in anything beyond that.”  
“Are you gay, Mr. Holmes.”  
His breath hitches for a moment. Shit. Why didn’t I look over that question before I blurted it out? Why must John be so nosy?  
“Yes, Gregory. I am. Though, it’s hardly of any concern.” He didn’t look pleased.  
“I’m sorry… ummm. It’s written down.” My heart rate increased again. I enjoyed the way my name sounded on his lips far too much. I started bouncing my leg again.  
“These are not your questions.” It wasn’t really a question. He knew.  
“Ummm. No. Mr. Watson, he made them up.  
“Do you work together on the student paper?” Oh dear god no. I’d be terrible at it. Writing isn’t my thing. This is embarrassing.  
“No.”  
He looks at me quizzically.  
“You didn’t volunteer to do this interview, did you?”  
“No, I didn’t.”  
This was turning into my interview now, but I had a feeling he wasn’t asking me questions. He was telling me what he knew.  
There is a knock at the door, his PA opened it.  
“Mr. Holmes, pardon the interruption, but you’re 2pm meeting is here.”  
“Cancel it Anthea, we’re not finished.”  
She hesitates and looks at him curiously, but says nothing and leaves.  
“Where were we, Mr. Lestrade?”  
“Please, don’t let me keep you from anything.”  
“I want to know about you, Gregory. I think that’s fair.” Shit. What the bloody hell is he doing? He leans his weight on this hand that’s on the umbrella and wet his lips a bit with his tongue; it was more distracting than it should have been.  
“There isn’t much to know really. I’m just your average bloke.”  
“What are your plans after graduation?”  
“Right now, I just want to finish school. But I suppose I’d like to get a place here in Central London and get a job with New Scotland Yard. I want to be a detective.”  
“I think you’ll make a very good detective, Mr. Lestrade.”  
How could he possibly know that?  
“Maybe. I’ve never really fit in anywhere, so I’m not too optimistic NSY would hire me.”  
“Don’t make assumptions.” His gaze on mine was becoming more intense. My pants were a few sizes tighter than they were when I arrived. I gripped my fingers hard on the notepad. I need to leave now. Or this is going to get very uncomfortable, for both of us.  
“Would you like a tour?”  
“I’m sure you’re a pretty busy guy, Mr. Holmes. I have to get back as well.”  
“Driving?” He sounded surprised. It made sense. Most people my age take the tube or a cab. “Well, drive safely.” His tone was demanding. Why did he give a fuck? “Do you have all the information you require?”  
“Yes, sir” I tuck everything into my satchel.  
“Thank you for the interview, Mr. Holmes.” I reach out my hand to shake his.  
“The pleasure is all mine.”  
I stand and walk to the door. “Until we meet again, Mr. Lestrade.” He was challenging me again. I shake his hand again. There’s a current there. I’m too anxious.  
“Mr. Holmes.” He follows me to the door and opens it.  
“Just ensuring you don’t trip again, Mr. Lestrade.” He smirked. Obviously, he was referring to my clumsy entrance earlier. Damn.  
“Thank you.” I snap. I’m not a child. His smirk is so obvious now. He follows me out of the office and to the elevator. I really need to get out of here.  
I glance down to the floor as I wait for the elevator; my erection is plainly obvious now. He looks at me, but doesn’t say anything. He leans on his brolly as the elevator clicks open. I walk in. Please door, shut quickly.  
“Gregory.”  
“Mycroft.” I reply. Thank god the doors shut.


	2. The Encounter

My heart is pounding. The elevator finally arrives on the first floor. I run out as soon as the doors open, I nearly trip, but manage to keep my footing long enough to make it out the front doors of Whitehall. What. The. Fuck. Just. Happened? I’m finally free of that overly swank building and nerve racking situation.  
No one, male or female, has ever affected me the way Mycroft Holmes just did. I have no clue why. Is it his looks? Intelligence? Money? Power? I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I take a deep breath in, hold it, and then sigh heavily. What was all of that really about? I walk away from the front doors and lean up against the wall as I light up a cigarette. I’ll need a few dozen to calm down. I need to have a minute to chill out and clear my head. My heart rate manages to straighten itself out as the nicotine fills my lungs.

I get back in my car and make my way to the freeway. I’m starting to feel like an idiot as I replay that bloody interview in my head. I have to be imagining some of the things that happened. He’s attractive, that’s apparent. He’s confident, commanding, and comfortable with himself. But he’s also arrogant and cold despite his well-mannered upbringing. I feel myself shutter. He has a right to be all those things--- he’s accomplished and successful at a very young age. I imagine he doesn’t take to fools kindly, but why would he? I’m suddenly pissed again at the fact John didn’t give me any biography.  
Traffic has picked up a bit as I head back home. Rush hour is beginning; luckily I should miss the worst of it. My mind began to wander again. What makes someone so driven to succeed. Some of the things he told me were rather dark; he was definitely hiding something. His position in the government was more than just minor. He was too power hungry for that. I can’t believe some of John’s questions! Asking him about his upbringing and sexuality. I can’t believe I asked him that. Every time I think about it, I’m going to cringe. Dammit, John Watson.  
I check my speedometer. I realize I’m going a bit too fast in my frustration. I slow down and begin to drive more cautiously. I can’t get any kind of violations if I want to work with NSY. Those eyes were so enveloping. I could get lost in those eyes and his voice… I almost wanted him to order me around. He’s a middle aged-man in a young man’s body.  
Forget it, Greg! I tell myself. It had been an interesting time, anyway. And I did learn a bit. I suppose I could put it on my resume or something. I’ll just put everything else behind me. I’ll never see him again anyway. Thank god. I turn on the radio and find a station that’s playing something of interest. I pick up the pace driving again. I’ll just look out for police.

John and I live in a two bedroom flat in suburban south London. We have to commute a ways to University, but the pricing is cheaper in this area than central. We’re lucky in that we got a discount in rent for being ‘service’ industry majors. Apparently, our landlord things that being a police officer and a doctor are noble causes. This place has been my home since I started university four years ago. I know John is going to want to know everything that happened. He’s too persistent for his own good. I’m glad I had the recorder because I wasn’t able to write much down. I hope he doesn’t ask for too many more details.  
“Greg! You’re back.” John is sitting on the sofa, textbooks stacked up on the table and arm of the sofa. Clearly, he’s been studying, something I should have been doing. He’s still in pajama pants and a dressing gown, though, it seems he’s beginning to feel better.  
“I was beginning to worry. I expected you’d have been back sooner.” He took a drink of tea.  
“I thought I made good time. The interview ran over and I kind of pushed the speed limit on the way home.” I tossed the recorder at him, followed by the folder of notes.  
“Thank you so much for doing this. I definitely owe you. So, how was it? What was he like?” Of course, I couldn’t get lucky and he just leave well enough alone. John Watson inquisition.  
I don’t even know what to say. Oh yes, he made me feel like a child but managed to give me a simultaneous erection. I definitely can’t say that.  
“I’m glad it’s done. And I’m even more glad I don’t have to see him again. He was rather intimidating.” I walk to the kitchen. “He’s a very intense, bloke. And he’s young.”  
He looks at me innocently. I just glare as I pour a glass of milk.  
“Don’t look so innocent. You’re the one who didn’t give me any background information. He made me feel like a complete and utter git for not knowing anything about him.”  
John lowers his head to the floor. “I’m sorry, Greg. I really just didn’t think.”  
I sigh.  
“He was courteous, formal, and very well mannered. He did seem a bit up tight. He speaks like he’s in his forties. How old is he anyway?”  
“Twenty-eight.” At least I got that right. “I’m sorry, Greg. I should have debriefed you, but I was just worried about it getting done, and I really didn’t feel well.”  
He begins getting to work on the transcription of my notes and the recorder.  
“We’ll I’m going to go. I can still make it to work.”  
“Greg, you’re going to be exhausted.”  
“It’ll be fine. I need the extra cash. Cheers.”

I’ve worked at Clayton’s since I started at University. It’s a hardware store. It’s a bit off the wall, but we have a large selection. I’m definitely not interested in tools, but it’s a job to get me through school and into the real world. I’ve come to learn a bit about everything here, and although, I’m not big on fixing things. I have learned enough to get by since being here.

I’m glad I can actually get to work this evening. I’m glad from the distraction of Mycroft Holmes. It’s rather busy this time of year. Spring is just ending, and summer hasn’t quite started yet. But folks are beginning to redecorate and start improvement projects. My boss looks happy to see me.   
“Greg. I didn’t think you’d make it in today.”  
“Luckily, my appointment didn’t take as long as I thought.”  
“I’m glad to see you.”  
She sends me to the store room to grab supplies to restock. I put all my focus stocking to take away any distracting thoughts from my mind.

When I arrive home later John is wearing headphones and working on his laptop. He was definitely looking better, but it was apparent he was still recovering. He’s typing rather quickly, obviously interested in the interview. John is right, I am now effectively exhausted. Between driving, that interesting interview, and work, I collapse on the couch and realize I need to finish and essay for my Law class. Damn.  
“You’ve got some good stuff, Greg. Well done. I can’t believe you didn’t let him show you around Whitehall. He sounded like he wanted to spend more time with you.” He looks at me briefly, trying to get some more information from my face.  
I turn red for a moment and my heart rate goes up again. That wasn’t the reason. He just wanted to show me how much power he had. I realize I’m pushing my hand onto my crotch… I really hope John doesn’t notice. That would make for more awkward conversation.  
“I really hear what you mean about his formality. Did you happen to take any notes?”  
“Umm. No. I didn’t.” John you have no idea how distracting he was.  
“That’s fine. I can still get a great article with this. It’s a shame we don’t have any original stills. He’s a nice looking guy isn’t he?”  
“I guess.” I try to sound like I don’t care. John knows I’m bisexual, I’m not sure if he wants me to find him attractive or not.  
“Oh, come on, Greg. I’m straight and I think he’s a looker. You can’t tell me you’re immune.” Yep, he definitely wants to know if I’m attracted to him.  
Bloody Hell. My face is heating up again. I need to distract John.   
“He probably would have told you a lot more.”  
“I doubt that, Greg. He is a really private man. Besides, he basically told you that Scotland Yard would hire you. That’s a great compliment. Given that I made you do this last minute, it’s great.”  
He’s looking at me and trying to find more information. I get up quickly and go to the kitchen.  
“So what did you really think of him?” Damn, John can’t we just drop it? I’ll just think of something to get him off my back.  
“He’s very driven, controlling, arrogant---cold. But he definitely knew how keep calm. He’s charismatic. I can understand the interest.” There hopefully he’ll stop asking now.  
“You’re interested in someone? That’s a first.” He laughs.  
I start myself in making a sandwich. John, please shut up. John knows I’ve been out with people. Just none of them were worth staying with for long.  
“Why did you want to know if he was gay? By the way, I felt like an arse asking that question. I was mortified it even came out of my mouth. And he wasn’t happy to be asked.”  
“When he has photos of him at events, he never has a date. The only person he’s been photographed with is his Personal Assistant.”  
“Well, it was embarrassing as hell. I’m glad I know have to see him again.”  
“Greg. It can’t have been that bad. He seemed quite interested in you.”  
Interested in me? Now John is just being stupid. I make John a sandwich and practically throw it at him. I just need silence for two minutes.

We don’t talk about Mycroft Holmes that night, For that I’m relieved. We move our respective works to the kitchen table and John continues on his article and I begin my essay on the Change of British Law in the 21st Century. There’s a lot I would change. For one, we need more police officers. I don’t finish my essay until long after John goes to bed. I’m exhausted, but it has to have been one of the most productive Monday’s in my short life’s history.  
I throw myself on my bed sliding out of my sneakers and jeans before curling up, and closing my eyes. It takes no time for me to fall asleep.

For the rest of the week, I throw myself into studying and work. John is busy, as well, he’s been working hard studying for exams and finishing up things for the newspaper. By Wednesday, he’s doing better and I actually see him in something other than his dressing gown. I call my mom in Paris to see how she’s doing, but also to get the good luck from her for my final exams. She starts telling me about her candle making, my mom has always liked trying new things, that’s never changed. She gets bored and wants to be occupied. She’s a wonderful woman but has the attention span of a goldfish. I’m just glad she has enough sense to not sell her house to finance her hobbies. I hope my dad is doing fine as well. Although, I was adopted, I was never that close to my father. My mom couldn’t have kids, and I think he always resented me a bit because I wasn’t his flesh and blood child.  
“How are things with you, Gregory?”  
“I’m fine.”  
“Greggie? Have you met someone?” How the hell does she know these things. Damn mothers. She sounds way too excited.  
“No, Mom. It’s nothing. You know I’d tell you first.”  
“You really need to get out more, dear. You know you worry me.”  
“I’m fine mom. How’s dad?” I’ve always learned that distracting mom is the best thing.  
“He’s alright, Greg. A workaholic as always. I know we adopted you, but you inherited that trait from him alright.”

Friday night, John and I are debating on what we should do for the evening. I decided to take my mom’s advice and take a break from work and studying. Our doorbell rings. I open the door and there is Molly Hooper holding a bottle of champagne.   
“Molly. It’s good to see you.” I give her a hug. “Come on in.”  
Molly was one of the first people I met when I arrived at Uni. I was confused and relatively new to London and we recognized a kind of kindred spirit in each other. We’ve been friends ever since. She is a medical student as well, so she and John have several classes together. She and John are great friends as well. She’s a very bright girl. A bit socially awkward and she’s very pretty.  
“I have some news.” She smiles widely. Her posture screams excitement.  
“What is it?” John just wants the news.   
“I get to start my internship and clinicals at St. Bart’s after graduation.”  
“Congratulations, Molls. That’s amazing!” John says excitedly. He has applied at St. Bart’s as well but hadn’t heard back.  
“Great news, Molly.” I smiled at her.  
“I want to celebrate. That’s why I brought the champagne.” She gives me a smile as she pours us glasses in the kitchen.  
Molly and I are great friends. I know that she’s interested in more. She’s beautiful and smart, but she’s really not for me. I’m bisexual but I prefer the male side of things. She’s more like a sister to me. John sometimes pesters me about the fact I haven’t had a serious relationship, but I just haven’t met anyone who’s been worth the time. Part of me wants all the romance, weak-at-the-knees, nerve-wracking type stuff, but if it never comes along I’ll be fine with that.  
My mother is right. I did get the workaholic personality from my father. I’ve probably spend too much time in the company of murderers, lawyers, criminals, and other future officers that I’m just not thinking about finding anyone. But no one has ever made me really feel.  
That is until just recently, the unwelcome, the conscious whispers, of a mysterious Mr. Holmes. NO! I put the thought aside immediately. I am not even going to make an attempt of going there, or even rationalizing that thought, after that interview. I haven’t been able to push him out of my mind since that night, I’m hoping my body is just getting something out of its system.  
Molly is cute. She’s a few inches shorter than me and has a nice figure. She’s got light brown hair and chocolate brown eyes. I think now she’s finally getting the message that I only want friendship. We toast to her success and she smiles.

Saturday at work is a nightmare. We are swarmed with people who want to start projects. Both the Mr. and Mrs. Boss are around as well as Alice and Anderson. Both of them work here with me, though I have a few classes with Anderson. He’s studying forensics or something like that. Luckily, around lunch it slows down a bit. I spend the lull checking on inventory and eating yet another sandwich created from my kitchen. I suddenly feel like I’m being watched and I glance up. I find myself face to face with the incinerating gaze of Mycroft Holmes, who is standing across the counter.  
HOLY SHIT!  
“Mr. Lestrade. What a pleasant surprise.” He gaze is still just as intense as before.  
What the bloody hell is he doing here? He’s still in his three-piece suit, with that bloody umbrella in his right hand. Though instead of the nice leather shoes he had on during our interview he is sporting a pair of black sneakers.  
“Mr. Holmes.” I can barely manage to get his name out. I can see a small smile cross his lips; he’s looking at me as if he wants to laugh.  
“I was in the area,” he explains. “I need to pick up a few things. It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Lestrade.” His voice is like bloody liquid velvet. He could probably get me off from just talking. Wait! I did not just think that.  
I shake my head to gather my thoughts. My heart rate has sped up once again and I imagine my face is the same shade of red as his tie. I am nearly brought to my knees by the sight of him standing in front of me. My memories don’t do him justice. He’s not just good-looking. He’s the bloody epitome and male perfection. Not in just his looks, but his demeanor just adds to that. Why is he standing in an off-the-wall hardware store in South London.  
“Greg. My name is Greg.” I say. “What can I help you with?”  
He smiles slightly. It’s like he has some big secret he just found out about. It’s off-putting. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself. I can do this.  
“I need a few things. To start with, I am in need of cable ties.” He is cool and his expression says amused.  
Why in the hell does he need cable ties?  
“We stock various types. I’ll show you.”  
“Please do.”  
I try to attempt to look casual as I come from behind the counter; I’m terrified I’m going to fall. I’m suddenly glad I decided on a nice pair of jeans for work today.  
My heart now felt like it was in my throat. I felt like I was going to start choking. Why in the world is he in South London. A suit like him has no business in this part of town. More importantly, why is he in a hardware store? I contemplate the idea that perhaps he’s here to see me, but I quickly ignore it. That’s not possible. Why would this perfect man want to see me? It’s a stupid idea.  
“Are you in the area on business?” I decide to ask. My voice cracked because of my nerves. Damn. He thinks I’m an idiot.  
“I’d rather that be the reason. I’m afraid my brother has decided to be… difficult.” He paused and looked at his umbrella as he followed me, twirling it in his fingers. I wish he wouldn’t do that.  
“Family drama.” I add. I don’t want to pry.  
“Something along those lines.” He said shortly as we arrive at the cable ties.  
What in the hell is this government suit going to do with cable ties. I doubt he’s redecorating. He slides his free hand along the packages and decides on a brand.  
“These shall do.” He has a smirk on his face again. Does the guy ever look like he doesn’t know everything?  
“Is there anything else you’d like?”  
“Masking tape.”  
This just keeps getting weirder.  
“Are you redecorating?” I ask before I can stop myself. The dude is rich. He probably hires someone to do the work.  
“No, I’m afraid not.” He laughs.  
Is he laughing at me? Bastard.  
I lead him around the store to the tape.  
“Have you worked here long?” His voice is velvety and slow. It draws all other thoughts from my mind and fills it. Why the hell does he affect me like this? It’s like I’m a bloody teenager all over again.  
“Around four years. I started here when I began Uni.” I reach over and grab the two widths of tape we keep in stock.  
“That one.” He gestures to the one inch tape. His fingers brush against mine for a second that electrical current is there again. I think it caused my heart to stop for a moment, along with my breathing. It’s starting to get really hot. I look down and pray that my body decides to behave itself.  
“Anything else?” I’m trying to catch my breath. His eyes are on me once again.  
“Rope.”  
Is this guy a murderer?  
I try to stay facing forward as to avoid him noticing the color of my face.   
“What sort of rope were you after?” I was expecting to have to explain the types. But I didn’t.  
“Five yards of the natural filament rope.”  
I try to steady my hands and quickly measure out the rope. I could feel him watching me. It’s the same sensation I had when I was waiting for our interview. I’m too paranoid. By some miracle I manage to tie and cut the rope without slicing a finger off.  
“That was impressive. Boy scout?”  
What the hell? How does he know that? His lips had an amused shape to them. Greg… do not look at them.  
“For a few years, yeah.”   
“Not really your area?”  
“I enjoyed it, but I just got into other things when I got older.”  
“What kinds of things?”  
You. No. No. NO. Greg. Now is not the time for that. “Football, friends, school.”  
He twirls his umbrella once again. “Anything else?” I feel like I’ve asked him nearly 100 times already.  
“Is there anything you would recommend?”  
How can I suggest anything? I don’t even know what he’s doing.  
“Well I imagine you wouldn’t want to ruin your suit, so Coveralls.” I don’t have a filter on my mouth anymore.  
He raises an eyebrow, amused once again.  
“Damaging my suit is not an issue.” His voice was very seductive. He was definitely being suggestive of something else.  
“Umm…” Fuck. My face is ridiculous.  
“I’ll take a set of coveralls. God forbid, I should ruin my suit.” He’s unamused and bored.  
I try to dismiss the idea of him without clothes and think about something that will control what’s about to become a big problem.  
I hand him the most expensive pair of coveralls we have, the guys a millionaire. He won’t care.   
“How’s the article coming?”  
He asked. Thank god a change of subject.  
“Ah… John’s writing it. Not me. He’s the one who writes. He seems pretty happy with it. He’s been trying to find a good photograph.”  
“What sort of photograph?”  
I hadn’t thought about that.  
“Well, I’m around. Tomorrow perhaps…?”  
“You’d be willing to take some photos?” I’m trying to keep my voice from cracking. John will be so excited if he’d do that. And then I could see him again. Damn my brain. Ridiculous.  
“John will be delighted.” I have a big stupid grin on my face now. He looks almost confused. It’s cute.  
“Let me know about tomorrow.” He pulls a card out and hands it to me. “You must call before 10am. Otherwise, I can’t change my schedule around.”  
“Cheers.” I grin again. John will love me.  
“Greg.”   
Anderson seems to have magically appeared from the stock room. He’s a classmate of mine with dreams to work at NSY as well.   
“Um, excuse me for a moment, Mr. Holmes.” He frowned.  
I have never been too thrilled to have Anderson around. He’s a bit of a know-it-all. He’s brilliant when it comes to the classwork he’s done, but he’s somewhat annoying.  
“It’s good to see you’re well.”  
“How are you Anderson?”  
“Wonderful.” He grins at me and tries to step closer. I try to back up a bit. It’s nice to have good coworkers and classmates, but this is awkward.  
When I glance up at Mycroft Holmes, he’s watching us carefully, examining every move made by both Anderson and I. That cold gaze had returned.  
“Anderson, I’m with a customer. Someone you should meet.” I need to defuse the situation quickly. I gesture for Anderson to follow me. They look at each other attentively, analyzing one another.  
“Anderson, this is Mycroft Holmes. Mr. Holmes this is Anderson, he’s a classmate of mine.” I feel like I need to keep talking, but I manage to keep my mouth shut.  
“Mr. Anderson.” Holmes holds his out, annoyed, but still polite.  
“Mr. Holmes.” He returns the gesture. “Wait, Mycroft Holmes of the government right?” He’s suddenly awestruck. Mr. Holmes gives him a light smile.  
“Is there anything I can get for you, sir?”  
“Gregory has it covered, Anderson. Thank you.” He’s implying something again.  
“Very well. See you Greg.”  
“Sure.” He leaves for the stockroom again. “Anything else, Mr. Holmes?”  
“Just these items.” His voice is clipped and calm. I feel like I offended him. What did I do?  
“The total is 98 quid, please.” I glance up at Mr. Holmes again. I immediately wish I hadn’t. He’s watching me intently.  
“Would you like a bag?” I take his credit card.  
“Please, Gregory.” I love the way my name sounds coming off his tongue. I’m glad I’m standing behind this counter.  
“Please call if you want to take those photographs.” He’s back to business. I nod. I can’t think of anything to say.  
“Good. Until tomorrow, perhaps.” He turns to leave. “Oh, by the way, Gregory, I’m glad that Mr. Watson couldn’t do the interview.” He smiles, and twirls his umbrella as he leaves the store. Sod this.   
Okay. I like him. There. I said it to myself. He’s attractive. Very attractive. It’s pointless though. It was just a coincidence that he showed up here. But what harm is there in admiring from afar. If I can find a photographer, I can do some more admiring tomorrow. I bite my lip a bit. I need to phone John.


End file.
